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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271685">Christmas Roses</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lychoubi/pseuds/Lychoubi'>Lychoubi</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirach/pseuds/Mirach'>Mirach</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Christmas at (former) Dowling Manor [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(very little), Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Language of Flowers, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mentioned Warlock Dowling, Mild Blood, Mild Painplay, Other, Sexual Roleplay, Top Crowley (Good Omens), rose thorns</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:35:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,298</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28271685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lychoubi/pseuds/Lychoubi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirach/pseuds/Mirach</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A few years after the world didn't end, the Dowlings borrowed the ambassador's manor to spend the holidays in England and throw a Christmas party for their former staff. Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis are staying for the night. Now that they are no longer coworkers (as nanny and gardener) and neither supposed enemies (as an angel and a demon), they can indulge in some fantasies they had while working here, but didn't dare to pursue.<br/>(Story by Mirach with art by Lychoubi)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Nanny Ashtoreth/Brother Francis (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Christmas at (former) Dowling Manor [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2071128</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>AntiChrist-mas Zine Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Christmas Roses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Antichrist-mas zine, betaed by kaiannanthi. Here is an illustration for the story by Lychoubi: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23213137/chapters/69320565">Nanny and gardener</a></p><p>There is a sfw prologue for this story, taking place at the party, titled <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28270845">For Richer, for Poorer</a>.<br/>This was the first nsfw story I wrote, and I hope I tagged it correctly.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The music from the Dowling Christmas party faded as the nanny and the gardener tiptoed along the hall.</p><p>The nanny opened the door, looked around to assure they were alone, and then beckoned to the gardener, inviting him into the room.</p><p>He blushed, hesitating for a moment, but then he slipped inside and closed the door.</p><p>It was four and a half years after the Apocalapse and the Dowlings were spending the holidays in their old manor, borrowed from the current cultural ataché who went to celebrate in the States.</p><p>The nanny and the gardener burst out laughing.</p><p>"Pfffffft, did you see their faces, angel?" Crowley snickered.</p><p>Aziraphale wiped the corners of his eyes. "Indeed, my dear. How many people have approached you trying to put the two of us together?"</p><p>"Let me count… Harriet, then Mrs. Brown, you know, the one who used to be a cook here…"</p><p>"Yes, she and Miss Thompson have been telling me how elegant you are and how you have been watching me eat all the time… you really were a bit obvious, dear."</p><p>"As if you weren't breaking role when she made the Beef Wellington."</p><p>"Well, she really is a great cook. I asked her for the recipe."</p><p>"Of course you did," Crowley rolled his eyes. "Warlock did have some vague suggestions too, about us not having the same employer anymore."</p><p>"Yes, he did to me, too. He's turning into a fine young lad, by the way."</p><p>"Surprisingly."</p><p>"Well, I like to think that we have at least some merit on that," Aziraphale said.</p><p>"Yeah? I doubt it. So anyone else tried to nudge you in my direction?"</p><p>"Well, do you know Henry? He used to be the Dowlings' chauffeur."</p><p>Crowley shook his head.</p><p>"Right, of course not. You always drove Warlock yourself, I really don't know how the Dowlings allowed it… Anyway, Henry offered to be my wingman? I don't know what that's supposed to mean, he doesn't even have wings…"</p><p>Crowley snorted. "Have we really been that obvious while working here, angel? I thought we weren't doing anything out of the ordinary, and Heaven and Hell hadn't caught up with it for hundreds of years."</p><p>"I guess humans are much more perceptive about these things."</p><p>"Well, it makes sense. Most of them manage to find a mate within just a few decades."</p><p>Aziraphale smiled indulgently. "Yes. Unbelievable."</p><p>"Even Thaddeus tried to give me advice about what men want."</p><p>"Oh really? What do men want?"</p><p>"Breathing space, apparently."</p><p>Aziraphale nodded. "Not that I would be a man, but he's got a point. Your hugs are awfully tight sometimes."</p><p>"Are they now?" Crowley came closer and wrapped his arms around the angel, squeezing him from behind like the snake he was.</p><p>"Yes, dear," Aziraphale said, smiling contentedly. He could feel Crowley's chest against his back shaking with suppressed laughter.</p><p>Then the laughter burst to the surface. "Their faces when we said we'll only take one guest room because we are married!"</p><p>Aziraphale chuckled too. "Really worth acting clueless for the whole evening." He turned and stole a kiss from Crowley's smiling lips.</p><p>"Brother Francis!" Crowley said in a scandalized Nanny voice.</p><p>Aziraphale chuckled.</p><p>"Did you have some fantasy?" Crowley asked, withdrawing a little. "With Nanny, I mean. I freely admit I did have a few involving a certain gardener."</p><p>"Well of course I did."</p><p>"Tell me, angel," Crowley drawled suggestively. "Tonight we are the nanny and the gardener."</p>
<hr/><p>Brother Francis knocked on the door, clutching a bouquet of flowers in one hand.</p><p>No answer.</p><p>He hesitated for a few moments, then tried the door handle.</p><p>The door was not locked.</p><p>Francis carefully opened it and entered the room. There was an empty vase on the table and he arranged the bouquet into it.</p><p>His back was turned to the door when a woman in a black skirt entered the room and watched him. He didn't notice.</p><p>He turned to leave and...</p><p>"Miss Ashtoreth!" he exclaimed in surprise. "I… uh… my deepest apology for entering your room. I only brought you flowers. Fresh from the garden."</p><p>Nanny didn't mention the view of the snow-covered garden behind the window. She approached the table and focused her attention on the flowers. "That's very kind of you, Brother Francis. It's a lovely bouquet. Did you know that flowers used to have different meanings that could be read like a letter?"</p><p>"I… uhm…" Brother Francis stammered.</p><p>She took one flower from the vase. "A pansy. <em>You occupy my thoughts</em>."</p><p>Brother Francis closed his mouth and watched her caressing the flower with slender fingers.</p><p>She took out another one. "A yellow acacia? I didn't know we have an acacia in the garden."</p><p>Brother Francis blushed. "In the… uh… the glasshouse."</p><p>"Oh, right," Nanny Ashtoreth smiled. "I believe it means <em>secret love…</em>"</p><p>Brother Francis blushed even more.</p><p>The nanny brushed her cheek with the acacia flower, a gentle touch running from her high cheekbone to the chin.</p><p>Brother Francis held his breath.</p><p>"A peach blossom," she whispered, taking another flower. "<em>I am your captive</em>."</p><p>She caged the flower in her fingers and put it close to her chest.</p><p>Brother Francis breathed out shakily.</p><p>She turned her attention to another flower. "A Christmas rose…" She took it gently, cradling it in her palm.</p><p>Then she looked up and for a moment it wasn't Nanny but Crowley, pushing down his glasses to reveal his eyes, full of love and compassion. "<em>Relieve my anxiety</em>…"</p><p>Miss Ashtoreth pushed the glasses back. She brought the white petals to her lips and kissed them softly.</p><p>Aziraphale shivered.</p><p>"And a rose… So many meanings and nuances behind a rose. This one has a rather unusual color. Is that coral, peach or…" Crowley peeked over the top of the glasses, asking for help.</p><p>Aziraphale sighed. "It's orange. 'Alexander' hybrid tea rose."</p><p>"Right, orange," Crowley nodded and Nanny Ashtoreth smiled, slipping back into the role. "Fascinating. That's what it means, right? <em>Fascination…</em> Oh, and it's one full bloom over two buds. <em>Secrecy</em>." She put the rose to her lips, sealing them with it. She ran it along the curve of her lower lip and chin, the petals brushing the soft skin of her neck. With the other hand, she loosened the red neck bow and undid the first button of her blouse. The rose rested between her collar bones, the orange against the dark cloth like a flame in the darkness.</p><p>"Careful," Brother Francis said hoarsely, "it's thorny."</p><p>"Oh yes," she whispered. "A thorny rose. <em>Pleasure and pain</em>…"</p><p>"I… I'm really sorry for entering your room uninvited, Miss," Brother Francis stammered. "I should leave…"</p><p>She walked to the door swiftly and locked it, still holding the rose close to her chest.</p><p>"You don't really want to leave, do you, Brother Francis?" she asked in a low voice. "You've made your bouquet rather eloquent."</p><p>He pulled on the collar of his shirt, feeling too tight now. "I didn't know you knew the language of flowers. I'm sorry…"</p><p>"So you wrote me a love letter, thinking I can't read?" There was now a dangerous undertone in Nanny's voice. "That won't do, Brother Francis. I need to hear clearly what you want. Do you want to go?" she unlocked the door and opened it, "or do you want to stay?"</p><p>Brother Francis looked at the open door like a deer seeing an opening in a circle of wolves. But then he looked at Ashtoreth and a spark of courage bloomed in his eyes. "I want to stay," he said clearly, even if a bit shakily.</p><p>The nanny closed the door again, the sound of the key turning in the lock resounding with finality.</p><p>She walked back to the table, her sensible black shoes clicking on the floor.</p><p>Brother Francis flinched with each step, unsure what to expect but eager for it, judging by the bulge of his pants.</p><p>She looked him up and down, stopping there shortly. "I've just been teaching Warlock how to dress and undress himself," she said. "Do you know how to undress yourself, Francis, or should I help you?"</p><p>"I… I know, Miss."</p><p>Her eyes narrowed. "Show me."</p><p>He fumbled with his clothes, forgetting a button while taking down his shirt under her strict gaze.</p><p>Then he was revealed and her look was hungry. She pushed him towards the Queen sized bed with red sheets and he stumbled, making it creak as he fell on the mattress.</p><p>"I've been teaching Warlock to tie his shoelaces, too," she said and produced a broad black string from her pocket.</p><p>"Bunny ears, bunny ears jumped into the hole," the nanny recited as she tied the gardener's hands together and fastened them to the bedpost. She finished the knot with a final tug on the bow: "popped out of the other side beautiful and bold."</p><p>Francis whimpered, the muscles in his forearms getting hard as he clenched his fists because something else was getting hard too.</p><p>"Shhh…" Ashtoreth put a finger to his lips, hushing him, "no talking after bedtime." She slowly dragged her long nail over his chin and neck, drawing a straight line that led her hand lower and lower, inch after inch of soft skin. She reached the base of his cock and ran along it, her touch torturously light and slow until it reached the tip, lingering there for a moment. She spread his legs with her knee and the touch continued down the other side. It circled slowly... slipped inside... pressed for a moment, then withdrew.</p><p>Brother Francis trembled and bit his lip, but remained silent as Ashtoreth got up and returned to the table.</p><p>She undressed without rush and put her clothes on a chair, folding them with care. She only kept her glasses. Her skin was smooth, glistening a little when the light from the lamp fell on it from a certain angle, reminiscent of the transparent sheen of scales. It made the red hair between her legs stand out in contrast. As her gaze fell on the messy pile of Brother Francis's clothes, she tsked disapprovingly and started folding them on another chair, demonstrating how it's done properly.</p><p>Once she was finished, she approached the bed again. Brother Francis was waiting there. He was shivering slightly, exposed to the cool air like this, yet a drop of sweat ran down his temple.</p><p>She leant over him, so close that he could smell her perfume - apple blossom and spice and something warm and smokey underneath. Hot breath tickled him on the neck.</p><p>Ashtoreth reached between her own legs with one hand. In the other one she was holding the rose. She put it to his lips, the touch of the petals silky and electrifying. The scent mixed with the other ones: her perfume, his sweat, the freshly washed bed sheets, the pine needles from the Christmas decorations.</p><p>The rose followed the path that her finger traced before, a smooth touch running down his body, teasing as it caressed his most sensitive spots and withdrew again. Again it touched his lips, the petals moving with his shuddering breath. Then Ashtoreth laid the rose against his chest, the flower blooming between his collar bones, the thorny stem pressing against his skin.</p><p>She put her hand on the stem and for a moment Crowley peeked out from behind her sunglasses, his eyes questioning.</p><p>Aziraphale nodded and in the next moment he was Brother Francis again, moaning as her hand drove the thorns into his skin. His muscles tensed in pain. The bonds dug into his arms and his erection strained upwards, aching for touch.</p><p>She watched him like a huntress observing a prey, her eyes glistening behind the sunglasses, her breath hot and quickened.</p><p>“P-Please…” he whispered.</p><p>She took him, hungry and eager, an ancient goddess devouring a sacrifice. She rode him like a stallion and licked the drops of blood from his chest. She stole all his thoughts and replaced them with sensations. The crystal-sharp peaks of pain. The warm valleys of touch, her finger mapping his skin like an unknown land. And below the surface, magma flowed: heat spreading under the peaks and valleys, a terrifying force of nature just below the soft grass. The tension grew, the pressure of tectonic plates building higher and higher. Something broke and the plates shifted, a mighty burts of magma rising from the depths and breaking the crust of the land.</p><p>He cried out, his body shuddering in ecstasy.</p><p>She waited for the last waves of pleasure to abate and then changed her form and took him again, a giving force instead of a taking one, exploring the underground instead of the sunlit land. She was slow and careful at first, but then she started to lose herself in the heat of the depths, entranced and needy, moving her hips in the rhythm of a building earthquake.</p><p>He was quiet this time, mouth open futilely as the all-sweeping wave of pleasure taking his voice and all remnants of thoughts as it crested over his body, deep and dark.</p><p>She dug her fingernails into his hips as the wave took her too, her body arching like a bow, more and more, the strength of the archer's hand releasing the string in a mighty burst, sending an arrow to fly far and high.</p><p>The tension released with a last shudder or the string.</p><p>She sank next to him, trembling.</p>
<hr/><p>They lay embracing each other, basking in the pleasant warmth and drowsiness, limbs heavy with it.</p><p>"You know, angel," Crowley murmured, "you're still a terrible gardener. Those flowers would never grow at the same time."</p><p>Aziraphale huffed. "Really? Well don't think I don't know that you stopped time so that you could google their meaning, my dear."</p><p>
  
</p><p>(art by Lychoubi)</p>
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